Yours ➳ D. Sprayberry [3.1]

➳ 60

"Moony, I know you're in there."

               She ignored him, choosing instead to listen to the music being fed to her through her earphones as she played with Samwise, his head resting in her lap. If she had it her way, she'd be back at her childhood home, curled up under the sheets of her old bed with her Momma rubbing her back, like she always did when she was upset. But, her Mother had gone away for the weekend, and Moony was no longer a child. She had to face her problems like an adult.

               And that meant not facing them at all, apparently.

              Moony turned around, squeaking when she found herself face-to-face with Dylan, who held up the spare key she had gifted him when she first moved in to her new apartment. He pulled out her earphones with a sigh.

             "I'm sorry about last night," he said sheepishly, "I wasn't expecting you and, well— Did you need anything?"

              "Nah, it was nothing." Her heart hurt. "Who was that girl, by the way? You never said you were dating anyone."

              "I mean, I'm dating, sure, but not strictly her," he shrugged, "I'm just... playing the field, I suppose."

             "Oh." A pause. "How many girls have you dated?" Shit. She didn't mean to ask that, didn't mean for the words to come out so bitterly, but they tasted foul on her tongue.

            Dylan smirked. "Are you— are you jealous, my little Moonpie?"

            "I hope you die a slow, painful death," she huffed, moving to turn around, but Dylan's hand on her wrist prevented her. His smirk had disappeared, and it left in its place a confused sort of expression — more curious, really —. Dylan searched her gaze, keeping his grip light on her arm.

             "Are you?" He asked. "Jealous?"

             "Why would I be jealous?" She laughed, but it sounded fake even to her. "I mean— we're just friends, Dylan. There's— there's nothing going on between u—." He kissed her.

            He. Kissed. Her. His lips pressed against hers, effectively stopping her before she could make a bigger fool out of herself — and probably dig herself into a hole she would be unable to get out of. And she— she kissed back, curling her hands —  now free — against the fabric of his t-shirt as his came up to cup her cheeks.

"Does this mean my feelings are finally being reciprocated?" He asked when they eventually pulled away, but his hands still cupped her face, his eyes locked on hers.

            "I've reciprocated them for months, you idiot," she laughed, "It just took me a while to realise."

           "Does this mean you'll say yes if I ask you to be my girlfriend?"

           "It depends on when you ask me."

            "Will you be my girlfriend?"

            "Now, that wasn't very romantic, was it?"

             "Ah, fine. I'll just go find someone—."

            "Don't you dare. You know my answer is yes."

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#moonberry

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